Seto's Recessional
by Quantula
Summary: As the evening pushes into the night, Seto finds himself alone with a stranger. Inspired by Vienna Teng's 'Recessional'.


_Disclaimer: I own neither Yu-gi-oh, its characters, the album Dreaming Through the Noise, or any songs in it. This is story I wrote years ago, which I decided to re-publish._

Seto's Recessional

 _As the evening pushes into the night, Seto finds himself alone with a stranger. Inspired by Vienna Teng's 'Recessional'._

"It's so beautiful here," she says. "This moment, now." She sighs.

This moment, now…

I avoid her gaze and glance at my watch. It is 6:17, and twilight is setting on Domino. We watch the city lights flickering in the distance, and the hilltop we settled on is as peaceful and ageless as it has been for three years.

This is the last place I thought I would find her.

Dressed in thin satin pajamas and protected only by a light jacket, she hugs herself to fight off the cold. I clench my fists and walk away from her, looking at my watch again. The time flashes but I don't read it.

"We should probably leave now," I say.

"Are you taking your limo?" It takes two of her tiny steps to keep up with one of mine, yet she's next to me and never losing pace.

"No. The driver called sick." What a lie. "It's getting late. You can't go home alone dressed like…that." My attention shifts to the watch. "I won't even ask what was going on in your head when you stepped out like that."

"Good," she says in an abrupt tone.

She has never sounded that sarcastic before.

I turn around and focus on her for the first time in the evening. The satin hugs her skin, sways in the breeze, and even the coat cannot conceal her figure. She turns red, but doesn't shrink from my gaze.

I don't have a choice now but to think about her.

She's beautiful, she always has been, and doesn't she have a boyfriend now? There was a reason, I swear, there was a very good reason why we separated….

But I forgot.

By the time we walk to the station, the golden light of the sunset had melted into darkness. She stays an arm length away, which annoys and relieves me. A gang hovers about her and as soon as the subway doors open, I push her in and glare at the men.

They back away.

The doors close, and we sit next to each other. She has a blank smile on her face instead of appearing thankful, but she catches me before I look away.

"You were always very protective."

I blink. Was that her new way of saying thank you?

She grins as she scrutinizes me, and then bursts out laughing.

"Your expression. It's _hilarious_."

She's _laughing_ at me. _She's_ laughing at _me_. I feel my face muscles tightening. How irritating.

In fact, this whole affair was irritating. And what did she mean by 'hilarious' anyway? She never used that word. For her to call something 'hilarious' was an off-hand remark, an afterthought…

"So I heard that you are going to release details for a new project soon." The blank smile remains, but it's clear she is looking for a conversation.

Fine. If that's what she wants.

It's been a long time, anyway…

We arrive at her station. Awaiting us was a quarter mile walk, a familiar and scenic route through the city apartment lights.

But she doesn't stir.

"This is your stop," I say when it's apparent she isn't getting up.

"No." She yawns. "I moved. My stop is at Domino Park."

" _Moved?_ " I'm stunned. In our entire conversation, she never mentioned anything to imply that. "I thought you loved that place."

"Nah, it was too small." Another off-hand remark. She doesn't even look up.

"You said it was the perfect size."

She bit her lip and her eyes flit to the ceiling.

"That was a year ago," she murmured, still smiling. Then she slumps into her seat a little and turns silent.

Irritation and disbelief seeped in—so what if it was a year ago? There was no way her tastes could have changed so much in a short amount of time. She was obviously just toying with me, laughing underneath that fake smile of hers—

I feel her weight against me.

My body tightens even more, but I look at her. Auburn hair tumbles across her face, her mouth hanging a little open. I hear blurred and vague announcements overhead and a dim murmur of noise around me, but her eyes are fluttering underneath their lids. She's dreaming, sleeping peacefully on my shoulder.

It means nothing, I _know_ it means nothing…

But I'm afraid to move.

Finally her stop arrives, and we step out of the station. She's still a little lightheaded and unfocused, rubbing her eyes and her cheek, red and irritated— and my eyes narrow.

"What's wrong?" She's looking at me with only one eye, the other obscured by her hand.

I lift my arm to touch her cheek, but pull back and start to fiddle with my watch.

"Your face. There's an imprint from when you were sleeping on my shoulder." The words flowed, business-like, but I wish I could take them back.

"Oh…" She fingers the groove on her cheek, tracing the letters 'K.C.' without knowing it. "That's okay, it will disappear. Let's keep walking, hmm?"

She did like walking—that was one of her favorite pastimes. We did it all the time at the hill, the mansion, even took hiking trips when Domino City became redundant and over-explored…

"Do you want to go inside?"

She points to a café. I pause before replying.

"It's 8:00."

"Well, if you're okay with it, I'm okay with it."

Dammit, 'It's 8:00' meant no. Didn't she understand the hint?

And since when did she like those places anyway?

"Fine, let's go," I say grudgingly. "But not for too long." Her face re-brightens almost instantly, and she's returned to talking about trivial matters again.

The café is almost empty, and a girl who was falling asleep straightens up as soon she hears the chime from the opening door. We've hardly taken a seat when she wanders over to our table, a slave to a job she obviously hates.

"What would you like, sir?" The smile on the waitress's face looks exactly like…hers.

I stare at them both. The waitress blushes.

"Nothing."

"And you ma'am?"

"Mmm…" She glances at me, fingers curling together. "Coffee, no sugar, please."

"Coffee, no sugar?" I echo.

Her eyes widen, and she smiles.

"It's a recent habit," she says. "I found that tea was a little weak." Her smile turns into a giggle. But she never giggles, she laughs. She _laughs_.

"Ah…" The giggling stops; the mask of contentment returns. Awkward silence ensues, and she shifts in her seat.

The waitress returns with the coffee and the stupid smile two minutes later.

"Here you go." She sets the cup on the table and leaves.

And suddenly the coffee goes flying as I knock it over and the cup smashes to pieces, a shocked expression over _her_ _face_ and she's finally ridden herself of that unbearable stone, glazed look, while triumph elates me—

—but in reality, the coffee is touching her lips though the smile has fell a little.

"Are you okay?"

I look away, and she finishes the coffee in silence.

"Well, let's go." The air outside is sharp and fresh, just enough to pull me out of my reverie.

Approaching a line of apartments, I can tell the reunion is at an ending. We face each other underneath the bright lamppost, hanging in awkwardness, neither of us wanting to initiate the parting and …

And for the first time in the night, I see a shadow of sadness fleet across her face. Dammit, I want to move closer to her, I want to hear her speak, but not to this person who I hardly know, not…

Who is this stranger, in the shell of a lover—

She turns away from me and raises a hand in good-bye.

"Well anyway," she says, "I'll see you around."


End file.
